


break time

by tsunderestorm



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-10 03:29:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5569189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsunderestorm/pseuds/tsunderestorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>gross self-indulgent rivalshipping. Seto is working too hard (again) and Yugi thinks he needs to take a break.</p><p>contains blowjobs and Yugi being really, really into Seto's hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	break time

Seto’s hands are...a problem. Yugi isn’t sure when it started (or how) but at some point it became a fixation, something close to an obsession. 

First it had been easy enough to dismiss as admiration for his dueling prowess. Seto duels like a storm; some bizarre blend of elegance and fury. His motions are fluid when drawing cards from his deck, flipping them expertly between long fingers and sliding them into the duel disk with finesse. Yugi is sure that anyone who didn’t admire that would be a fool. 

At least, that’s what Yugi had told himself. Atem had felt differently - they needed to save the world, he had teased once, and here Yugi was, fantasizing about Seto Kaiba’s hands of all things. Gods, how much his cheeks had flushed! He forgot so often that Atem shared his thoughts, that he knew every time he’d thought about Kaiba’s hands on his bare skin. How embarrassing.

When he and Seto had started...well, whatever they had been doing at first (fucking? dating? coping?) the fixation had gotten worse. It was the way Seto touched his collar, the way his hands flew across the keys of the keyboard as he fired off a memo to his staff, the interlocking lines formed when he steepled his fingers and fell deep in thought. Soft fingertips, the bump of his knuckles, the lines in his palm - Yugi has heard that you can read things in these lines; wonders what the crisscrossing paths say about the great Seto Kaiba, knows that he wouldn't listen even if he could tell him what it meant. Fate, destiny...those things are nothing to him, but they’re everything to Yugi. He feels like his destiny is his hand interlocking with Kaiba’s.

Seto’s wrists are pale and elegant and his hands are soft. He puts his fingers on Yugi’s chin to tilt his head up to look at him, commanding attention; places a palm on the back of his neck, grip walking a fine line between demanding and gentle. Yugi likes the look of his hand flat on the bed next to Yugi’s head to support his weight; studies before his eyes slide closed the way his fingers spread and then come together as his hand fists in the sheet. He is sharp and harsh as he fucks Yugi down into expensive sheets, his hands rough and greedy in Yugi’s messy hair, fingernails scraping his scalp when he pulls on it.

Yugi is no writer, but he feels like he could fill a novel with thoughts about Seto’s hands, fill up journals with everything he thinks about his unlikely boyfriend the way he fills up legal pads with notes for his company.

\--

Yugi is drawn back to reality when Seto’s pen stops scratching the paper, looks down and sees a KaibaCorp memo pad filled with the familiar scrawl - another to-do list. The pen is a heavy fountain, rolling across the desk until Yugi catches it, tucking it parallel against the top of the memo pad.

“Come up with any ideas?” he asks. He’s learned not to ask “good ideas” because every idea Seto Kaiba has is a good idea, to him.

“A few that might be worthy,” Seto answers, pinching the bridge of his nose and lifting up the corner of the memo pad to let the pages fall back down. “There has to be something in here that’s worth using.”

Yugi runs a finger along the middle of the memo pad and listens to the papers crinkle, wavy with the overbearing press of his pen. “Seems like you brainstormed a lot, Seto.”

“I’ve been writing for hours,” he says, squeezing his hand in a fist and extending it again, placing it flat on the desk and pushing his chair back just slightly from the desk. Yugi scoots forward so he’s poised right on the edge of the desk, taking Seto’s hand gently in his own and kneading the spots he knows are sore. The edge of his wrist from resting on the desk, the junction of palm and thumb that aches from holding the pen, the side of the index finger knuckle indented from the heavy pen. Seto almost smiles, and it’s all the encouragement Yugi needs.

“I know it won’t do any good,” he says as he slides into Seto’s lap, “but I’m telling you that you shouldn’t work so hard.”

“What have I told you, Yugi?” Seto sighs, clenching his fist in Yugi’s grasp. Yugi shakes his head and smiles, pressing a kiss to his fingers before slowly pulling them apart, pressing fingertips into the spot on his wrist that’s sensitive.

“You deserve a break.” He adjusts his posture so he’s straddling Seto’s thigh, steady in the enormous executive chair. It’s easy now, to fall into this pattern with him, to get close to him and not feel him recoil from the touch, to feel the warmth of his body through his expensive suits, to hold his hand that he’d wanted to take for so long.

Seto scoffs. “CEOs don’t take breaks.” All the same, though, he relaxes back in the chair to placate Yugi. 

“That’s right...poor guy, you’ve been here all day. Your back must hurt, and your hand…” Yugi coos. It’s a little much and he knows it, but Seto’s expression is smug from the attention.

It starts with a kiss. Chapped lips pressed to the pad of his thumb, innocent and sweet. Seto’s index finger catches the tip of Yugi’s chin in an affectionate swipe, and Yugi moves to kiss his index finger, middle, ring, little finger. “Poor hand,” he murmurs, cradling Seto’s wide palm and long fingers between his own much smaller hands.

“What is this supposed to be, some magical friendship kiss?” Seto demands. Yugi laughs and lets go of his hand, placing his own flat against it and pressing back until they’re vertical, parallel, size difference thrown into stark contrast. Seto’s hand dwarfs his own; wider palm, longer fingers. So big, Seto.

“No, silly,” he says as he runs his fingertips down the length of Seto’s fingers and open palm, smiling when he jerks just slightly. His palms, his wrists, the only ticklish spots on his entire body - Yugi feels honored to know these things and much, much more. “Did it work?”

“No,” he sighs impatiently. “But...you could keep trying, if it’ll help you sleep at night.”

He brings Seto’s hand to his lips again, eyes flicking upwards to catch his gaze - there’s something in it he recognizes, part amusement, part hunger - before he kisses it again. “Maybe you just need another kiss.”

This time he kisses slow, giving each fingertip a kiss before he slides the digits into his mouth and bites softly. Seto’s response is a sound that’s somewhere between a moan and a scoff, and Yugi presses closer against him, tongue flicking out to swipe at the top of Yugi’s index finger. 

He alternates between kisses and bites, lavishes attention on each long finger until Seto himself is pushing them deeper into his mouth, past the first knuckle, the second - gods, he wishes it were his dick and he sucks them like it is, imagines he can taste the precum on his tongue, feel the weight heavy in his mouth.

“You wish my fingers were something else,” Seto says, reading his mind. Yugi isn’t prideful; he nods, bobbing his head and drawing his fingers deeper still, down his throat, rocking his hips down against Seto’s thigh. He’s getting hard, he knows, blush creeping to his cheeks as they hollow, sucking sharply on Seto’s fingers.

“Say it,” he growls as he pulls Yugi closer, fingers of his free hand spread wide on his hip. He pulls his fingers back and Yugi is gasping for unobstructed breath.

“I wish it was your cock,” Yugi moans, all open-mouthed and lewd, and when he rocks forward he feels Seto through his pants, his dick firm against Yugi’s knee. It’s what he wants, wants to feel him get hard for him, wants to feel him thick and hot in tight pants, wants his hands all over him while he’s all over his dick. 

Seto knows he feels it, makes sure to slouch down just enough in the chair, makes it just evident enough that it gets Yugi going - fuck, it’s so easy to make him moan, make him want. He squeezes Yugi’s ass in a greedy handful, loves the way the action pushes his little body forward against his own and when his lips part to moan Seto makes sure his fingers are back, sliding between them so Yugi can suck on his fingertips.

“You know what to do,” he says lowly, part encouragement, part command. Yugi does - when Seto’s fingers hit the back of his throat and he chokes, spit running down his fingers in a sloppy mess. He does know what to do, does what he's wanted for quite some time now - to worship Seto's hands like they deserve, like he deserves. To kiss him all over, to taste him, to feel every inch of skin on his tongue.

Seto takes the sight of Yugi sucking on his fingers in greedily, desire evident in deep blue eyes. He wants, needs, has to feel Yugi against him, to know he's turning him on (if you held his arm behind his back and forced him to talk, he'd tell you he's still not too confident with this whole sex thing) and that it's him Yugi wants, not a long-gone spirit or a childhood friend or for fucks sake, Wheeler. It’s good, but it’s not enough - the impatient press of his dick against his pants, suddenly far too tight and uncomfortable. Yugi’s hand slides down Seto’s chest and rests flat against the bulge in his pants, making his breath catch in his throat. Yugi smiles, innocent but not, and glances from Seto’s all-too-evident erection to his flushed face.

Yugi slides down from his perch on Seto's lap smoothly, settling into place on his knees between his spread legs, hands sliding up the insides of his thighs. His nails are chipped black and Seto watches his boyfriend's fingers move again towards his dick straining against the fabric of his pants like he's in some sort of daze, like he’s somewhere outside of his body watching it happen. It’s unusual, uncomfortable, to be so relaxed, to feel so at ease with someone. He's focused, always focused, but something about Yugi makes him forget that - sometimes it's the soul brand (the one that matches his own) in the crook of Yugi’s arm a few inches above a memorial hieroglyphic tattoo, maybe it's the adoring look in his eyes when he looks at him (simpering, he'd once called it, but it’s flattering now) but right now it's the fact that Yugi's hands are squeezing him through his pants and fuck he's licking his lips who does he think he is?

“Can I…?” Yugi asks as he leans in towards him, eyes big and gentle. He always asks, always confirms, because there are times when Seto says no, I can't, I'm busy, it's not a good day. But today is not one of those. Maybe he is overworked, he allows himself to think, and dammit his dick is hard and Yugi knows what he's doing. Better than Seto thinks be ever could, in fact, but like hell he'll tell him so.

“Go on,” he says lowly, hand reaching out to brush a chunk of Yugi's bright bangs out if his face. 

Yugi’s fingers trace the logo on Seto’s belt buckle, biting his lip in concentration as he slides his finger underneath the metal plate and unfastens it, sliding the leather away from its hook. The logical part of Seto’s mind (growing alarmingly farther away - he isn’t fond of this) knows that it takes only a few seconds, but in those fleeting moments when Yugi is touching him but not touching him it seems like an eternity. Yugi is patient, gentle hands and soft skin, and when he pulls down the zipper of his pants with an upward flick of his eyes and a bite to his lower lip Seto smirks. His fingers are there to smugly trace the o of Yugi’s mouth when he pulls his dick from his pants, resting in the center of his lower lip as he licks his fingertip again, a precursor of things to come. Appreciative, excited, hungry.

Yugi nuzzles up the inside of Seto’s thigh, kissing through the fabric of his pants, eyes fluttering closed like he’s in ecstasy to do even that. Yugi is slow, almost reverent when he folds the fabric of Seto’s pants back and tugs down his underwear and Seto finds himself wishing that he’d just get on with it, why was he always so damn long-winded, oh.

When Yugi’s lips find the tip of Seto’s dick he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Yugi’s mouth is warm, wet, and the barest graze of his teeth against over-sensitive skin is enough to jolt him back to the present. They’re in his office, official memo half-typed on his tablet, to-do list three-quarters completed on the desk beside him and Yugi is on his knees between his legs, a hand on his hip to support himself and the other fisted around his dick.

Yugi’s good at this. Seto isn’t sure if it’s the porn or practice and to be honest, at this point he doesn’t care. Yugi is his and he treats every intimate encounter like the most important moment of his life, eager and sincere and so goddamn sweet in his touches even when his nose is buried in the coarse hair at the base of his dick. He hates how easy Yugi makes this seem, how the tears that prick at the corner of Yugi’s eyes with his mouth stretched so wide are cute rather than annoying and he hates how he can feel his entire body tightening when he knows he’s close. 

Seto is so responsive, much more so than Yugi ever would have expected. He doesn’t gloat, but he has to admit that there’s a certain joy in being the first person to make Seto Kaiba fall to pieces in the bedroom, the first person to make him cum so hard he’s mad about it later. His hips shake with the force of holding back, of not bucking up into the touch of Yugi’s hands and the warmth of his mouth, his nails leave scratches on the Italian leather of his desk chair and Yugi sees it on his face - eyes squeeze tightly shut, brow furrowed, mouth a hard line. He knows when his lover is about to come, can feel it in the tensing of his stomach and the shake in his thighs, knows to pull back enough so the hot splash of cum doesn’t choke him, to keep his hand squeezed tight around the base of Seto’s dick and makes sure he gets every last drop.

“Yugi - “ Seto starts as he runs his fingers through his messy bangs to clear them from his vision when he’s done dragging it out, appreciating it, letting Yugi touch him as much as he wants like he’s in awe of what he does.

Yugi brings his hand to his lips and swipes a sticky tongue across the tips of his fingers, sighing quietly and relaxing back on his feet in his kneeling position. “Seto,” he breathes, “You taste good.”

Seto growls and damn near yanks Yugi to his feet, shoving him backwards so his ass hits the desk and falls back on it with a surprised yelp. Seto’s hands are the opposite of Yugi’s; rough, demanding, greedy and entitled as they undo the buckles of Yugi’s double belts, tug down the zipper of his pants and free his dick from his underwear. 

Seto gives head different than he does, Yugi thinks in the second Seto’s face moves between his legs. He never closes his eyes, refuses to look away - his eyes are dark and piercing, a hazy cloud of lust somewhere deep within them and Yugi brings a hand to his mouth to stifle the gasp that sneaks out. Seto’s hand that isn’t tracing circles on his left thigh darts out lightning-quick, grabs his hand and laces their fingers before pinning it to the desk. It would be uncomfortable if every nerve in Yugi’s body wasn’t on fire. Instead he just moans, unbidden and unbridled, eyes fluttering closed. Seto’s teeth sink impatiently into the tender skin of his thigh and he yelps, legs squeezing tight together over Seto’s shoulders. 

“Watch me, Yugi,” he growls. He makes a show of it, always - pulls back with a self-satisfied smirk and a low moan, breath hot on Yugi’s dick and sending a shiver down his spine. He’s a damn good sight to watch, Yugi thinks, mouth stretched around his dick, hair messier than he’d ever allow it in any other circumstance, bobbing his head eagerly as he sucks Yugi’s dick like he needs to. Yugi’s other hand finds a dragon-themed paperweight and the edge of the wooden desk before settling in Seto’s hair, arching up against him and squeezing his legs tighter around his head. He finishes with a soft little gasp, breathing so heavily his chest is heaving.

“Well, little king, how was that?” 

Yugi laughs as he slithers back into his spot, breath hitching when his still half-hard dick rubs against Seto’s. He’s still sensitive and his hands squeeze Seto’s broad shoulders momentarily as he gasps. 

“Amazing…” he sighs. “Kiss me, Seto.” 

He holds Yugi’s chin between his thumb and index finger, looking deep into his eyes before obeying. Yugi is constantly asking for kisses; with a pout of his mouth, with the press of his finger to his awaiting lips, with a smile that used to annoy him and now makes his heart do an uncomfortable flip-flop something akin to the drop on a rollercoaster. The kiss is deep, making Yugi’s hand travel to the back of Seto's neck and tangle in the ends of his hair. His tongue is between Yugi’s lips in an instant, tasting himself there and loving it. The desire starts to coil low in his stomach again and there’s a fire in Yugi’s sunset eyes and he knows he’s not getting any more work done today.

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written anything even remotely smutty in months. Wow.


End file.
